


Everything's An If In This Birmingham Life

by bornof_sorrow (wintersfire)



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Sexism, Series Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-14 17:30:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4573326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintersfire/pseuds/bornof_sorrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tommy broke Lizzie's heart at Epsom: can he ever make it up to her? Does he even care?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note 1: Epsom used to take place midweek, early June. This assumes the same for the 1922 Derby. Fic starts the day after Epsom. Unbeta'd.  
> Complete.  
> Note 2: You need to have watched pretty much all of Peaky Blinders to get what is going on here. Title from Polly.  
> Note 3: Mentions of the rest of the family, Grace and May: mostly Lizzie and Tommy. Please take note of tags for triggers. Explicit= mostly last chapter, relatively mild as explicit goes, but still unsuitable for minors.  
> Note 3: Feels, feels everywhere. I couldn't bear to leave Lizzie like that. Something needed to be done Tommy, do you hear me?  
> Not mine. I don't even own my own cap.

Tommy had woken up in his desk chair with a stiff neck, a thick head and stinking of whisky. Michael was nowhere to be seen and in the gloomy office the high of the previous night was long gone. The place was cold and the lamp light would put years on anyone. He sat up and groped for his cigarettes, wincing at the pain in his body and the shaky feel of depleted adrenaline. What a fucking day that had been. He needed to think. 

He went to shout out to Lizzie to bring him a cup of tea when he remembered her part in things too. He saw her face contorted in rage and horror and thumped his head against the desk. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Forget the tea; he needed the hair of the dog that bit him. He groaned feeling his muscles twist in protest from sleeping in the chair and pushed his arms into his coat. He checked his watch but it wasn’t there. 

No, it was in a shallow grave with a couple of Ulstermen. Better them than him.

He may as well show himself at the Garrison and deal with the fallout.  
~~~  
As soon as he entered Poll shot from her chair and put her arms around him.

‘Thank God, Tommy, thank God.’

He cupped her face in his hands and looked into her shadowed eyes. 

‘How are you Poll?’ She tried to smile back at him but couldn’t manage it. Instead, she pressed her cheek against his arm and wrapped cool fingers around his wrist.

‘I’ll be alright now Tommy.’ Maybe he believed her, but you never knew anything for sure with Polly. She turned and they were all there, watching them.

‘What the fuck’s this I hear about a wedding Tommy?’ Arthur shouted, pushing a chair out with his foot in invitation. Polly’s head whipped around so fast it nearly came off. He suppressed his smile, the mood she was in, she would probably kill him too.

He shuffled over to the chair and nodded at Arthur for the whisky already there, looking at Michael.

‘Couldn’t hold you own water could you?’ 

Michael laughed. ‘Thought it was part of the general air of celebration.’ 

‘I haven’t even asked her yet, so mind your own business.’ He knew that wouldn’t stop them.

John leant forward ‘Marriage is family business Tommy.’ From the bar Esme darted a glance from under lowered lashes. For a moment Tommy assessed how much trouble might be brewing in that direction.

Tommy sat back, took a drink of whisky and lit a cigarette. He made them wait until he had sucked in a few drags and then said ‘I s’pose you’re right…’

He then told them what he wanted them to know.  
~~~  
Lizzie walked all the way to the Green Street Baths. She couldn’t get really clean in her own small tub, although she had tried. She used to come to Green Street regular like but once she’d started to go up in the world a bit she’d had her own tub. A few months after Tommy had took her on as secretary, the reliable money meant she had been able to move into the bottom two rooms of a house around the corner from the Garrison. After years of shared lodgings she had felt like a queen to have a room and a tiny kitchen to herself. The woman who lived upstairs was a widowed friend of her sisters. She had too many mouths to feed, and a past of her own to worry about to be fussy enough to refuse an ex-whore.

With a good second hand bed frame and a new tick mattress, a teapot, her clothes and bits and an uneven deal table, Lizzie had felt like new job, new rooms, new life. Under the shelter of all that newness Lizzie had felt a bit of self-respect growing, but maybe she’d been kidding herself there as well.

She trotted up the three shallow steps to the baths, the sound of her feet echoing on the tiled floor. There was a woman fat, stoop-shouldered and shawled sitting behind a long narrow table of chipped dark green. Before her was a stubby pile of tickets beside a compartmentalised tray with coins in it.

‘Full bath, Number 6 if it’s going , please Niamh.’

Lizzie pushed a few the coins across the table to the woman who didn’t look up but nodded as she reached behind for a thin towel which she pushed across the table in return. Lizzie tucked the towel under her arm and walked along the corridor towards the familiar humid warmth underlain with the faint smell of carbolic soap. Lizzie nodded as she passed a couple of women from the streets, then turned into the bath house itself.

She had come at this time because she hoped it was quiet enough to use the corner bath, which was the most expensive, having a flimsy cubicle around it. It enclosed a high window with a spray of lilies painted in a very shaky hand above it – or maybe they were something else, Lizzie didn’t know much about flowers. She always felt a pang in her chest when she saw the flowers, but she didn’t know why. As she had hoped, it was so quiet that she didn’t have to worry about bumping into people who’d want to talk. Usually she came to the baths because she wanted to talk, to catch up with the other women and find out who was doing what, who was having another baby, who was courting – all the things that women talked about when they were free of husbands and kids, but today she wanted to be alone.

The bath was clean – another benefit of being in early in the day when everyone was busy working- so she leant over, stoppered the plug and turned on the taps. Hot steamy water poured out and she flicked the clasp on the flimsy lock, took off her hat, hung it on the peg and started to strip off her clothes.  
She unfastened her gloves and lay them over her hat on the peg and undid the buttons at her nape to loosen her dress and draw it over her head. She appreciated being able to undress slowly and carefully. When she’d be on the game her clothes had been cheap, partly because, like most other people, she couldn’t afford better and partly because she wore things that could be slid up, off or out the way without damage. 

One of the things she had loved about working as a secretary was putting on her dress in the morning and expecting she wouldn’t be taking it off before it was time for bed. There were other things she loved about working as a secretary – and more to the point as a secretary for Tommy – but right now she couldn’t face thinking about them. But she had to think about them, she had to think about everything because Tommy Shelby would expect her back to work soon or he would come looking for her. No-one wanted a Shelby to come looking for them. That’s why she had come to the baths.

She needed to be up to her neck in scalding water too. She wanted to feel clean again. A surge of rage raced up from her gullet and she pressed the back of her hand across her mouth and sat on the edge of the bath, gasping. That soldier, the dead one, he had wanted to check that she was clean. Many men had asked her that but she didn’t think she had to do that anymore. It made her sick.

That made her think about his hands on her and the bruises she had found on her skin. She gulped in air and pushed her thumbs into her eyes. Not yet, not yet.  
Lizzie finished undressing, breathing heavily until the muggy air eased the ache in her chest and she felt a bit more like herself. She checked the heat of the water without thinking about it and eased herself into the bath. She pushed back her hair, dipping it into the bath water and shut her eyes.

She was alive. She was safe. No thanks to Tommy and his fucking empty promises. Lizzie focused on the heat of the water and the quiet of the baths and let the images flood into her brain. That soldier had hurt her and she was furious about that, and with herself and with fucking Tommy who’d put her in that situation. Even though she’d had worse, she hadn’t been prepared for it yesterday. She knew what soldiers were like, how to be careful with them, how to get home in one piece but she wasn’t so used to having her guard up anymore. Fool. She had believed Tommy when he told her he would get to her before it would start. Even then, when he had made it plain he was only using her, like he did, even then part of her had thought he would get there. She’d got soft.

The soldier had hurt her and knocked her head that hard her skull had rattled, so she didn’t realise for a minute that Tommy was there. Then they were fighting viciously, brutally. To kill. Lizzie felt again the disorientation and the panic of being in that room with them, everything slow and fast at the same time, gasping for air and trying to understand what was happening.

She had not seen Tommy fight before, which was strange when she really thought about it. She had heard stories, though most people told the really bad stories about Arthur. She had seen John fight, Arthur (though she hadn’t stayed around to watch, she had better survival instincts than that) and Polly one time during the war. Something to do with Ada. Lizzie remembered the cobs of hair floating up into the air as Polly dragged the skull of some woman from the streets.

But Tommy, no. 

She remembered his face contorted and focused, fighting hard. Lizzie’s head ached, but she could see Tommy go down and struggle back up and it was all wrong. He had to live or the soldier would kill her. He had to live. Nothing could kill Tommy, God knows people had tried. She was supposed to have a good day in her new dress and see how the other half lived, have a drink and a sing down the pub when they all got back. She wasn’t stupid, she had a good idea what they would all be up to but she wasn’t really part of that side of things. But she should have known better. Things for the likes of Lizzie never went very well for very long.

The gun had felt awkward in her hands, she couldn’t get it to work; she couldn’t remember what to do with it. Once she was properly working for Tommy, John had come around the office one day and taken her for a ride. She had been worried that he wanted to start off with her again and knew Tommy wouldn’t stand for it, but it wasn’t that. He had taken her along the warehouse by the cut and shown her how to use a gun. Said Tommy wanted her to know, just in case, but she wasn’t very good at it, so John hadn’t wasted much time. Shows how stupid she was because she had thought it meant he trusted her. It only meant he wanted to use her in every way he could.

Lizzie started to sob, great heaves of shock and remembered terror at the blood and that soldier’s head, splattered all over the wall like paint. 

She had watched Tommy kill a man, and she had helped. It was awful, but so many had died, so many men and boys, and life for people like her was hard, painful; and if it wasn’t the war, it was the influenza or crossing the wrong fella or dying trying to bring a baby or just plain bad luck, so she cried but she knew it was more for herself than that man.

Lizzie could see herself sitting in front of Tommy, being all happy to be there and God she had nearly told him, - ‘No exceptions has been no hardship. You know why ..? But he had looked around the room and over her shoulder and she knew he was watching for something and wasn’t listening, so she had shut up, thank God. She was so fucking stupid, such a fool, because she was so wrong, so mistaken. No fucking exceptions he’d said.

‘Lizzie this is the only time. After this never again.’ 

He had stopped looking around and leaned towards her and - she cringed inside- she had wanted to please him, wanted that attention even though he was using her like men had always used her, like she was nothing at all, and she had done it because she would do anything for him, anything. She had started the day thinking he wanted to give her a little treat alongside the work and that thought more than the dress and the novelty had made her happy. But all the time he had that plan in his head while she’d smiled and thought she might catch his eye like a woman he didn’t plan to pay, and she would never fucking learn, would she?

Alright. I’ll pay you an extra fiver. Like she was trying to up her price instead of showing him that she had changed into someone who could be worth something. Not worth something like a wife or a respectable girl, but something like someone on his side. Tommy Shelby was a right bastard, but she, Lizzie, was a fool.

She lay in the bath and cried until her eyes were swollen and her throat was sore.


	2. Chapter 2

While Lizzie was in the baths, Tommy had been down to the cut to check in with Charlie and take a breath of air. He was still aching all over but the whisky had taken the edge off his headache. He knew from experience that it would be back soon enough and he planned to keep it at bay with another drink and something to eat. Then he had phone calls to make and, in between all of that, he would wait for the current sense of everything being unreal and distant to ebb away. He knew from the war, and the business, that days like yesterday when you felt every minute with the intensity that only the possibility of imminent death brought, took a bit of shrugging off. What passed for a good sleep in his own bed would have him right as rain again. 

‘Oi! Tommy.’ Tommy looked up as John fell in beside him.

‘I was looking for you. Been to Charlie?’ Tommy nodded. It started to rain and Tommy dipped his head so the peak of his cap prevented the rain from reaching his cigarette. John told him about the day’s bets while they wandered back towards the Garrison. After a street or so they’d dealt with business and silence took over. Tommy became aware that the silence felt heavy.

‘Spit it out John.’ Tommy wondered what was wrong, quickly running through all the business John was taking care of. That was all in hand, he had spent the morning making sure. With a sinking feeling he wondered if it was something to do with Esme or one of the kids. By now, John had his hands shoved into his pockets and was glaring at the wet cobblestones.

Fuck this, Tommy had enough on his mind. He stopped and grabbed at John’s arm. John shrugged it off angrily.

‘John?’ Even to his own ears the tone sounded sharp to Tommy. Sergeant-Major sharp. John responded as he always had, like a good soldier.

‘Look Tommy, I know you’ve told her but…you know what she’s like Tommy, she can’t help herself.’ John darted a look from under his cap and his pale eyes slid away from Tommy’s and he drew on his ciggie, cupped protectively inside his hand to keep it dry.

‘What the fuck are you talking about John?’ Tommy thought about Esme again. He had meant what he had said, he would cut her if…

‘I think she thought she’d earn a couple of bob at the races, and I have told her Tommy but I thought you’d want to know…’

Tommy looked at him. What was John going on about? Esme wasn’t at the races. Tommy’s screwed up his face at John and opened his mouth…wait.

‘What are you talking about John?’ Tommy wasn’t sure what he knew, so he waited.

‘I’m talking about Lizzie.’

Tommy felt his shoulders loosen slightly. ‘What about her?’

John stuck one hand in his pocket again, took it out, gestured over his shoulder, ‘At the races. She was all shook up. I think maybe she had a rough mark.’ John raised his open hands in a calming gesture, cigarette pinched between forefinger and thumb.

‘Tommy, I know you told her to pack it in and she has done but I think…I think she went back to her old ways for a bit and I didn’t want you to hear it from anyone else. She’s one of ours Tommy, don’t be too hard on her.’

For a minute Tommy stared at John. He didn’t know what to say. There were a number of possibilities and Tommy hadn’t worked them all out yet. He had thought all that was between him and Lizzie. This fucking family, you couldn’t piss without someone knowing your business. Tommy ran over what John had said, his tired brain trying to connect what wasn’t said.

John looked along the street and then back at Tommy, narrowing his eyes against the rain.

For all his toughness John was soft-hearted when it came to women. It came of missing his mother and losing Martha, Tommy supposed. That was what Polly said, at least. He knew Lizzie hadn’t said a word to anyone. She never did.

‘It’s alright John. I know what happened.’

A smile of relief broke over John’s face. ‘You’re not mad?’

Tommy laid his hand on John’s shoulder.

‘No John, I’m not mad at Lizzie. She’s alright. It won’t happen again.’

Uncertainty flittered across John’s face. He was still and looked Tommy in the eye. Tommy could see him wondering. Tommy smiled.’ C’mon let’s get out of this rain. I need a drink.’

John nodded his head and they rounded the corner to the Garrison, eager to be inside.  
~~~  
By God he was tired. Tommy rubbed a hand over his face. He had been here, there and everywhere today, his mind working and working on all the things he had to see to, but now some of his plans were laid, some he hadn’t worked out yet. He had shared what he had intended to with the family and their responses ranged from raucous laughter from Arthur to bemused mockery from John all the way to tight-lipped silence from Polly. He knew she didn’t like the idea of his being married to her, but Polly knew he had made his mind up so she would keep her thoughts to herself. For now.

Tommy had been relieved to make his way home. He had limited tolerance for other people at the best of times, but this day, on top of yesterday, had made him terse and irritated. Now he was sitting before his fire, in his shirtsleeves, alone at last. Finally he had a moment to think about everything. He couldn’t help looking around the room and thinking that only a matter of hours ago he thought he was finished, that he would never see anything familiar ever again.

Yesterday had not been the first time he had thought so. He saw the grave dug ready. He had seen that before; trenches where he could be shelled any minute, no man’s land the same, and the obscene maw of unstable tunnels where being buried alive was the least of his worries. He had been beaten and bloody, lost consciousness, shot. Yes, Tommy had looked into more than his fair share of potential graves.

What a day. You couldn’t make it up. He had stared into the eyes of Alfie Solomons and dared him not to kill him and in the same day he had faced down Sabini, the police, the intelligence service and that bastard Russell. Then on top of that, the news that he would be a father, Grace, May and Polly. Any man would be tired enough to sleep standing up, and he spoke from experience there too. But he’d won, he had fucking done it. 

He settled further into the chair and rested his sock-covered feet against the fender, feeling the warmth soak into his toes. He closed his eyes and let the head rest support the weight of his head, remembering the previous day.

He had walked for a few miles, muddy and shocked through dull brown fields, his head whirling with overload and the feeling of too much, too fucking much. By the time he had reached somewhere to pick up a train, he was surrounded by race-goers returning home and the chatter and company had stopped him thinking until Birmingham. By then the first shock had receded and he had decided a few things. He didn’t need to toss a coin; some things had become very clear indeed.

Whilst the first shock ebbed quickly, he knew, like any old soldier, that the deeper shock took a day or so to loosen its grip on his nerves and body. The best thing was to keep busy, stop too much thought with activity, and he had done, he had kept busy, putting yesterday’s intensity behind him with soothing action and one-minute-after- another plodding through the day. Now he was just on the edge of feeling good, satisfaction and pride waiting for him beyond his tiredness. He got up, banked the fire and turned off the lamp before climbing the dark stairs to his room. He had done enough for today. He needed to sleep now.  
~~~  
Tommy Jerked out of sleep like he had on many, many other nights. He felt for his cigarettes in the dark and sat hunched over his knees on the edge of the bed. Bad dreams. Drive Tommy to a field. The Somme. The Black Woods. And there is a woman who I love and I nearly got fucking everything. Oh what the fuck, get it done boys. But when he looks into the grave it’s a face he doesn’t remember. Brown eyes, and pale skin, young, staring up at a sky he can’t see.

He lies down and stares at the wall. Eventually he sleeps.


	3. Chapter 3

When Tommy went into the office the next morning, Lizzie’s chair was still empty. Michael must’ve been in earlier than usual as Polly was there fussing over him and talking about breakfast.

Polly liked to fuss around them all when the mood took her, but Tommy could tell by the slope of her shoulders she was still all over the place after the Derby. In which case , fussing over Michael was probably the best thing for her.

Tommy nodded ‘Poll.’

She nodded back and went on handing Michael a bottle of tea and some bread from her basket. Then she smoothed her hand through her hair, lit a cigarette and walked around, flipping papers and making him wait.

‘What’s up with Lizzie Tommy?’

‘Now, that I don’t know Polly.’

She narrowed her eyes through the smoke and walked up to him. ‘Michael get yourself outside for a minute.’ Michael raised an eyebrow at Tommy who nodded. Polly waited for the click of the door and said ‘Don’t lie to me, Tommy. Something’s going on. Was she up to her old tricks at the races, is that it?’

Tommy took his time with his cap and coat, then settled in his chair, crossed his legs loosely and lit up.

‘I don’t think so.’

The silence stretched as Polly considered that remark. So John had it wrong. Polly didn’t think Tommy would have been too hard on Lizzie for making a bit on the side. He was always soft as shite with girls he let close, though he made sure most people didn’t know that. Lizzie had been close to Tommy for a long time in her own way. Polly knew all about the sloping off to Lizzie once a week after the war. Never mind the last couple of years.

She looked at him and he did his best to look back calmly. If he was calm as he looked, and Polly thought he might be, whatever it was had nothing to do with the business or the family. Which made it personal. Which meant Polly had a visit to make.

‘Right.’ Polly kept the pressure up for a few more minutes. Tommy smoked and watched her. 

Polly moved to pick up her basket, stubbed out her cigarette and said ‘I’ll be off then. ‘ 

Tommy sighed. Women.  
~~~  
Lizzie stirred her teapot , slid on the lid and placed it on the table. She poured a cup of black tea, and sat smoking and watching the small fire. It was just chilly enough for it, June or not, and Lizzie liked drinking tea by a fire. It reminded her of when her mum was alive, when she was young and life was hard, but not as hard as it would become.  
She picked at the nail of her index finger with her thumb and tried to make her mind work properly. She had slept badly, seeing the blood, screaming at Tommy while he tried to hold her: ‘You’re a liar, you’re a liar.’ He had tried to soothe her like he would a horse, his voice low and intimate, like he cared.

She could send a note to Tommy, say she was feeling ill and avoid him for a few more days. He might let it go. On the other hand, now that his scheming had come off, he had a lot of work to do, a lot of letters to write and nothing got in the way of business. 

While she pondered there was a sharp rap at the door and Lizzie’s heart lurched in her chest, who was this now? When she saw Polly on the step, she thought she was there to drag her back, no doubt telling her off for being ungrateful on the way. Polly didn’t have much time for anyone outside the family and she made no bones about the fact that Lizzie was generally beneath her notice.

Lizzie bowed to the inevitable and stood aside, letting Polly into her home. Lizzie sat back down at the table and took a moment to be glad she had resisted the urge to have her tea in her night things, she could just imagine the look she would have caught from Polly if she had not been dressed. Her room was small but clean and tidy; Lizzie had nothing to be ashamed of. Then Lizzie remembered Polly had gone up in the world with a big house and a maid. Lucky Polly.

‘I’ll get straight to the point Lizzie.’

Lizzie was not much in the mood for high-handedness from any Shelbys right now, but she didn’t want to be on the wrong side of Polly. She looked up into Polly’s face.  
‘You look like you’ve been crying for a week. What you crying about?’

Lizzie shrugged, ‘Nothing.’ She didn’t know how much Polly knew about Tommy’s Epsom business, but there was a reason Tommy had chosen Lizzie to be his secretary and that reason was she knew when to keep her mouth shut.

‘You’re not back on the game are you?’

Lizzie bristled, Polly or not. ‘No.’ 

Polly nodded. ‘You know better than that, no doubt. You’re not pregnant for God’s sake are you?’

Lizzie glared back at her and repeated her words. ‘You know better than that Polly.’

Polly nodded again. ‘That’s right, I forgot about that.’ Polly knew what had happened to Lizzie before the war.

‘Well then, there’s no reason you shouldn’t be back at the office. He’s a busy man…’ Polly stopped at the jerk from Lizzie. Lizzie turned away and took her time fiddling with her tea cup.

‘So that’s how it is. What’s he done?’

‘Nothing.’

‘See ‘cos that’s funny, he said the same thing.’ 

‘Well then.’

Polly sat down and looked across the table at Lizzie. Then she got back up and picked a cup from the shelf and poured herself a cup of tea. 

‘Lizzie you were a whore, we both know it plain enough. The war was hard and you did your best. You were a fool with John but you got on with things and didn’t make a fuss.’ She paused and watched Lizzie.

‘ I know for a long time you saw Tommy when he needed someone and now he’s trying to see you alright. My advice to you, girl, is to let him. You’re either for him or against him, and you can’t be against him. Whatever it is, get over it and get back to work. Am I plain Lizzie?’

Lizzie looked Polly in the eye. ‘Yes.’

‘Good.’ Polly drained the tea, straightened the chair and left. Lizzie stared into the fire and drank tea until the teapot was empty. She would have to get over it and get back to work, just like Polly said.  
~~~  
Tommy rattled through a few letters typing with one finger on each hand and felt Michael’s pointed looks.

‘Michael?’

‘Yes?’

‘Do me a favour, go and see John about the 3.15.’

‘The 3.15, Tommy?’

‘Yes, Michael, the 3.15. Get up, get your cap and go and see John. Take your time finding out and when you’re done, walk back slow.’

Michael huffed a laugh and waved a hand as he went out the door.

Tommy pushed his chair back from the desk and paced in a line between his desk and Lizzie’s. He had spoken to Grace on the telephone and they had arranged to meet the following week. He wanted to be sure that no unexpected complications cropped up in the aftermath of Epsom and until he was sure, she was safer away from him for the moment. He had then telephoned May and said he would see her later in the week. He hadn’t told her so, but he meant after he had seen Grace. From then on his path would be set and his new choices made. That meant he had a few days to take stock and get things in place before Sabini could get back in with Solomons, but he reckoned the need for new licenses and thirty per cent of Shelby export business would stave off both for a while at least. He did not want to think about Mr Churchill and the secret service, not until he had a few things in place. Churchill probably had his hands full with warring Fenians for this week at least. Therefore, Tommy should be feeling good about now, enjoying the moment and anticipating the next but he couldn’t shake the face in his dream. He knew the face, he couldn’t place it.

He sat at Lizzie’s desk and looked at the neat pages of blank paper, the tin of pencils and wondered when Lizzie would be back. He heard himself telling her ‘Lizzie, It’s gonna be alright… Just be alone with him at three when the race starts and I’ll do the rest.’ But he hadn’t, had he? He had fucked it up and ran in late. 

Lizzie saying ‘It’s how the soldiers know. It doesn’t matter just give me the fucking chalk.’

John saying, ‘She’s one of ours Tommy.’  
~~~  
That night he had the same dream, saw the same face. 

He lay in bed and thought of the other nights when he couldn’t sleep and he had gone to Lizzie. There had been nights when she had just kept her arms around him until he could sleep, nights when he had woken up shaking and shouting and she had made him tea, shared a cigarette and said nothing. There’d been many nights when he had walked in, fucked her and walked out again without a word.

I’ll get you, I promise before it starts I will be there. She was right, he was a liar. He did bad things, but not all of them he could help.

Shit. 

He didn’t have time for this.


	4. Chapter 4

The next day Tommy knew Lizzie was back because he could see her behind the dimpled glass of the kitchen window, no doubt making his morning tea. He stopped in the yard, thinking.

When he got in she half turned towards him. ‘Morning Mr Shelby.’ So she was back but she wasn’t happy about it.

‘How are you Lizzie?’ She glanced up from her desk but wouldn’t let their eyes meet.

‘Fine, thank you. I’ve started on the letters on your desk. Do you need any others? If not I’ll get on with the invoices.’ She lowered her head back to her work.

Tommy had spent a lot of time with Polly and Ada. He was grateful that Lizzie was back but he knew not to push his luck any further, not right now, so he turned to his desk and made a start.

Any suspicions that Tommy might have had that Polly had minded her own business the day before were firmly laid to rest when she came into the office mid-morning. Lizzie hadn’t spoken to him for the last hour or so, but that wasn’t unusual.

‘Alright Poll.’

Polly was looking at Lizzie who had given the briefest hello when Polly walked in, and she took her time turning her gaze to Tommy.

‘Tommy. I’m going into town, came into see if you needed anything?’ Tommy shook his head slowly and raised an eyebrow at Polly. 

‘No thanks Polly, we’re fine, aren’t we Lizzie?’ Both Tommy and Polly turned to watch Lizzie at her desk, she looked up, caught their stares and looked between them, the puzzlement clear in her eyes. Tommy jerked his head almost imperceptibly towards Polly. Lizzie straightened and smiled.

‘Fine, yes fine, thank you Polly.’ Lizzie looked Polly in the eye and stood up. ‘Cup of tea, Tommy?’

She went into the kitchen and they could hear the sound of cups being rattled. 

Polly leaned over Tommy’s desk. She wasn’t fooled, Polly had a knack for these things. She smiled and asked sweetly, ‘Told her about your engagement yet Tommy?’

‘I was just about to Poll. Well, I won’t keep you.’ He got up and walked over to the door which he held wide. She patted him on the arm as she left.

Tommy listened to her footsteps fade away as he thought about what he would say to Lizzie and wondered if marriage really was a good idea if it meant more women to deal with.  
Lizzie came through with a cup of tea which she placed on his desk, then went back in for her own. She walked past him for the second time with her cup and leant over her typing.

Tommy watched her. Maybe he would tell her later. They had all day.  
~~~  
There were no more Shelby visits and Lizzie was doing a very good job of not screaming out her rage and fear and pretending everything was normal when Tommy said ‘I’m getting married Lizzie.’ It was three o’clock and outside Lizzie could hear the usual bustle of the street beyond the yard, some kids chanting along with a game, but inside the office there was silence.

Lizzie paused. She was looking through a sheaf of papers for a bill for lamp oil, she had seen it just a minute before but now couldn’t lay her hand to it. She could feel his eyes between her shoulder blades, so she carried on with her search. She glanced over her shoulder at him. She had known him a long time but it didn’t do to forget the kind of man he was.

‘Are you now. I hope it turns out nice for you.’

‘Look at me Lizzie.’ She never ignored him when he spoke to her like that. She pretended her heart was not fluttering in her chest and bit her lip, hard. She could do this. She turned around to face him.

Tommy regarded her for a minute, looking at every feature of her face, a slight smile hovering around his mouth. The bastard.

‘Do you really mean that Lizzie?’ 

There was a light tone to his question that Lizzie knew meant he was teasing her a little. Tommy teasing her was so rare that she could remember the handful of times he had done it. She’d fallen asleep with a smile on her face more than once thinking of how he had teased her when he offered her this job. 

She leant back against the desk and braced her arms on the edge. His eyes were so pale and blue that she wondered how they could look warm too. She sighed.  
‘Yes. I do mean it Tommy. When’s this then?’

‘Oh, I haven’t asked her yet. ‘ He stubbed his smoke out in the brass ashtray on his desk.

Lizzie barked out a surprised laugh, despite herself.

He smiled, allowing her the joke. ‘What? You don’t believe me?’ He widened his arms and made a gesture that was all mock innocence.

‘If you say it Tommy, I believe you.’ Lizzie turned back to the desk and started searching again.

Behind her she heard Tommy push back out of his chair and the sounds of him retrieving his overcoat from the hook on the wall. He came around the desk and stood to one side, fixing his cap low over his eyes. She glanced at him and he was looking at her again, but she avoided his eyes. She could not bear to look into his eyes , he would see too much that he would not like, that she ought not to show.

She wished he would leave if he was going somewhere, then at least she could have a bit of peace.

‘What Tommy?’ She focused on the third button of his shirt, allowing her dark hair to fall forward and shadow her face.

‘You’re a good girl Lizzie.’

Lizzie did laugh out loud then, bitterness and disbelief making the noise too loud for the office. 

‘Me? I’m a whore. And do you know how I know that Tommy?’

Tommy looked like he wished he had never opened his mouth in the first place. He shook his head.

‘Cos no-one ever lets me forget it. Least of all you.’ 

She had to get away from him if he wasn’t leaving, before she said something really stupid. Please God let him leave. Lizzie tried to get around the desk but now he was in her way. She could smell the cloth of his overcoat and the starch of his shirt.

He touched her chin and she met his eyes but jerked them away before she could see any expression. She couldn’t get out of his way without pressing up against him.

‘Will that be all for now Mr Shelby?’

Tommy dropped his hand and nodded at her then went out the door. She could tell he wasn’t happy.

These fucking Shelby’s they thought they could walk roughshod over everything.  
~~~  
Tommy was relieved to walk away from the office. Well, he’d fucked that up. Sometimes he was amazed at his ability to say exactly the wrong thing. When he first got back from France he was past caring if he said the wrong thing. He didn’t know which way was up, too busy concentrating on not shaking or flinching at whistles and bangs, too strung out to accept the reality of being home. He had never been one for talking overmuch anyway, but after a while he noticed Poll or Ava flinch at some things, noticed he was barking at them like he was still giving orders to his men. He said even less after that, but that had got the two of them always asking how he was. He found the pipe and started his visits to Lizzie around then and eventually things had evened out. Since the business had grown and Campbell was on the scene, he had learned to weigh his words better, fit them to his purpose more. Tommy felt a wave of weariness wash over him and he scrubbed his hand over his face. Men were straightforward enough but add bloody women in and you couldn’t do right for doing wrong. He tried to be straight with women, told them what was what, but they went their own way, heard what they wanted, ignored the rest. And now Lizzie, for fuck’s sake.

He stopped in the middle of the street, ignoring the nods and acknowledgement from the people who passed around him and groped for his cigarettes, using the activity to stop his rising anger. He paced back and forth for a few minutes, deep in thought. There was no point getting angry at Lizzie when he knew he was angry with himself. She had not held his glance for long, dropping her eyes away from his. That was not like Lizzie and was a greater sign of how upset she was than her recent absence. She had fine brown eyes did Lizzie, and even for a whore she had never learned to hide what she felt too well. At least, he could see right through her.

He had seen the hurt there at Epsom but he had no time for it, he had hardly cared except in so far as it got in his way. He knew he was a ruthless bastard, he had been told enough times even if he had not known it in the deep part of himself that named and measured everything. With that same instinct he knew he was proud, too. Not for fighting and surviving when there was no choice and every single person was doing the exact same thing, not for using his skills to add more fear and wealth to the Shelby name (though that was not anything to be ashamed of, not round here), not for winning at any cost (well, he was a bit proud of that), but for seeing how things were, for not looking away, that he did nurse a secret pride about. The pressures and fears that made other men weak, he forged into strength. He hammered them and learnt them until he could use them to his purpose. Epsom had shown him in no uncertain terms that maybe he had overestimated a bit on that score, but he wouldn’t make the same mistake again. He did not consider Grace as part of this ability to be unlike other men: him and Grace were a whole different thing. 

He walked around to the Garrison, running things over in his mind. When he got to the pub it was empty apart from a couple of men coming off the early shift at the BSA. He took his whisky into the snug and shut the door.

He thought of Lizzie at Epsom. The dress she had worn was new and it suited her, softening her angles and making her skin warm. He could see the soft turn of her mouth twisting into ‘…doesn’t matter. Who is he?’ And she had looked away from him then, the hope and excitement draining from her face. She had looked back into his eyes when he promised her, for the second time, that he would be there before anything happened. She had not looked him in the face since then.

‘Just be alone with him at three when the race starts and I’ll do the rest.’ They both knew how well that had worked out.

‘No exceptions has been no hardship. You know why?’ Of course he knew why, he had always known about Lizzie. ’For months I made no exceptions because you told me not to.’  
‘It’s how the soldiers know.’

Then, all at once, he knew who he had seen in the grave. Whose brown eyes were dead, whose eyes had kept him awake. There was a lad who had taken to following him around in 1918 when they were scraping the barrel for enlisted men. Tommy had had enough trouble keeping his eye on John and making sure Arthur didn’t run at a gun placement, but the kid had followed him, asked constant questions, trying like them all to play the odds and survive. Two weeks he had lasted and by that stage of the war Tommy (and everyone else) had long since stopped learning names. So he didn’t know his name and could barely remember his face, but he remembered those eyes, brown and hopeful like Lizzie’s. ‘Lizzie, it’s gonna be alright, eh?’

They’d laughed at Lizzie when she tried to give John her love. Never done a day’s work vertical, Polly had said. Lizzie had had a hard life and dragged herself forward, never feeling sorry for herself. She was a good girl, whore or not. Tommy knew that she had turned to John because with John, she had a chance, a chance she knew better to expect from Tommy. But, give her her due, Tommy had been shafted by love too, no one escaped. 

Tommy went in to most things with his eyes wide open. So did Lizzie that was part of why he had always gone to her, she knew what was what. She knew him before he was rotted through, she had watched him fall apart and told no-one. With other women he took care to make plain what they could expect if they did things his way, and if they did not; he told them straight he was a man who did bad things. He never had to explain anything to Lizzie. When she told him about the correspondence course the pieces of the puzzle fell into place: he couldn’t afford another Grace in the middle of things and he admired Lizzie’s ambition, wanted to reward it.

He thought again about Epsom and how he had heard her cries of pain before he got to her and Russell. She had been more of a soldier than Tommy expected, carrying out his orders, pulling herself together as fast as she could.

John was right. She was one of theirs. 

He knew what to do.


	5. Chapter 5

When Lizzie turned returned from the market on Saturday morning there was a child sitting on her step. She stood up, hopping from foot to foot when she saw her and Lizzie’s heart dropped into her stomach. What did those fucking Shelby’s want from her now?

‘Lizzie, Lizzie, Mr Shelby said to give you this.’ She handed her a note which she recognised as one of Tommy’s from the cream paper, although it was now grimy where the girl had gripped it tight.

Inside Tommy had written in his fine ledger hand, ‘Lizzie I’ll make it up to you. 8 o’clock.’

By now the girl – Linda, Lizzie thought she was called – was dancing about. ‘Mr Shelby said to wait for an answer.’ Linda looked at her expectantly as if everything Tommy Shelby wanted was to be attended to straight away. Lizzie supposed she was right.

Part of her wanted to keep Mr Shelby waiting, but Linda was almost beside herself in wanting to rush back to him with Lizzie’s answer. The child looked up at her with bright eyes, dark curls falling into her face, which she tossed aside with a jerk of her head.

‘What will I tell him Lizzie?’ Linda twisted her fingers into her skirt, pressing it around her legs and loosening it again. God help her, she must be no more than nine but she was under Tommy’s spell like nearly every other female who’d looked into those monstrous, beautiful eyes.

‘Tell him I’ll see him at eight o’clock then.’ Linda beamed in total approval of Lizzie’s choices and ran off, legs flying, hair bouncing and probably daydreaming of spending the farthing Tommy would give her.

Lizzie looked back down at the note, turning it over and re-reading it. For some reason she felt tears prick at the back of her eyes. Her emotions had been all over the place this week, out of long habit she didn’t talk about anything to do with Tommy with anyone, not even her sister, who had learned not to ask, and it was exhausting having so much running through her mind, having to feel so much at once. She had been excited, angry, humiliated, disgusted, and furious before witnessing a bloody murder, which she then had to pretend had never taken place and never terrified her. Then, to add insult to injury, since Epsom she had been forced to relive her own humiliation and face the fact that low as her expectations had been of Tommy, even those pitifully small dreams had been thrown back into her face in a way that she couldn’t ignore or smooth over. She hadn’t realised until the dreams were smashed how much comfort they had given her, how much secret happiness she had nursed from simply being around him, being allowed close.  
Lizzie had known Tommy forever, in the way that everyone born and living in this neighbourhood knew the Shelby name and family. He was a few years older than her and he was simply part of her small world like any other local man when she was a girl. After her mother had died and the war changed everything, and in the process ruined Lizzie, she knew that she had very little chance of the things other girls her age wanted, marriage and kids and a home of her own. On the other hand, she was able to keep herself and the war devastated everything for everyone. The nice girls had no nice boys to marry, the nice boys were ruined or gone and loss lived amongst them all. By the time Tommy had come back on leave she was in business and he started to call, like his brothers and like a lot of others. He was decent enough, clean, never hurt her, a bit quiet, but no trouble, straightforward really; a welcome regular for a working girl. She thought she had her head screwed on the right way and thought she was safe, even with men as dangerous as the Shelbys. 

She was a fool. 

She was tired of telling herself she was a fool. 

It made no difference to the feelings in her heart or the thoughts that kept her awake at night. Lizzie sighed and went indoors, bustling about making tea and heating herself some soup. She wasn’t very hungry but she needed to eat. She wondered if this new promise of Tommy’s meant he was taking her out somewhere, but she shut down that speculation and the curl of excitement it brought, focused instead on feeding herself and tidying up. When she was a little calmer, she sat down at her table and re-read the note.  
She could feel warmth creeping over her skin when she thought about Tommy sitting at his desk and looking at the blank piece of paper the way he always did when he was trying to work out what to say. You would think that the heartache which was like a knife in her chest would stop her from ever building castles in the sky where Tommy was concerned, but no, she couldn’t make herself immune no matter how she scolded herself, no matter how many times she listed all the ways in which nothing good could come of her feelings. No matter how many times she told herself to stop. Lizzie closed her eyes tight and clasped her hands, uttering a prayer, ‘Let me be alright, let me be alright.’ This was the only prayer she ever allowed herself. Sometimes she thought it would never be answered and others she thought it already had, most of the times she said it in the last few years had been to do with Tommy, one way or another. 

She thought of an evening with Tommy in February 1919, one she always thought of as That Night. He had come to her door a few times before but by then the war was over and those that were coming home had returned, there was next to no work for them, and everyone was trying to learn a new way to live. Of course the Shelbys had more options than most, but nothing was anywhere near the normal that had existed before the war. Tommy had come round for his usual and Lizzie had moved away to the bed, chatting nonsense to give him a minute to get his coat off, and when she had turned back he was curled up in a ball in the corner. She had frozen, had no idea what to do and she was terrified, her thoughts racing. It wasn’t too long before everyone was familiar with the shock and the men suffering and she learnt to be careful and quiet like most women, but That Night she didn’t have a clue what to do. Then he had made a noise, low and strangled and terrible and she had no more thought. She crawled over to him and pulled his head on to her lap. He had his hands up covering his face, holding in more of that noise and she twisted until she was sitting against the wall and could support his head across her thighs. He had curled around her and she had held her hand still against the back of his head, and they sat there. They sat there for a long time and Lizzie ignored the few knocks on the door, until it was late, and silent, cold creeping in around the untended fire. 

Lizzie had woken from an uncomfortable doze when Tommy got up and stirred the fire, lit a candle which he placed by her bed and left. They never talked about it, she never told anyone. The next day he had pushed a note under her door, four times the usual money and the note said only ‘T.S’

Looking back, it was then it started for her, but she didn’t realise for a good long while. Like she said, she was a fool.  
~~~  
At six o’clock Lizzie had stopped telling herself not to get excited and she had stopped scolding herself for things she couldn’t change. She had decided to seize the moment and try and accept whatever Tommy thought would make up for Derby day. After all, there was no two ways about it, her job with Tommy was important to her and she wouldn’t do better. There was no doubt the bastard knew it too, but he seemed inclined to make an effort and God knows she deserved it after all that had gone on, so, here she was having a strip wash and thinking about what to wear.

The Eleventh Hour was showing and Lizzie hadn’t seen it yet. Tommy knew she liked the movies and sometimes he gave her a few bob to go. He didn’t bother much himself but he seemed to like her telling him about it after she’d been. If he was taking her there she could wear her pink dress, it would do under her good coat. Lizzie wrapped her dressing gown around her and put away her wash things, considering. No, Tommy wouldn’t take her there; that was more Arthur’s style than Tommy’s.

There was only one choice when she thought about it. She would not wear the cream dress she had bought with such excitement and delight for Epsom, she could not face that, and besides, it was more a day dress than evening. She had a dress of French navy with fluted glass beading on the bodice. It was beautiful and the only reason she had it was that the Peaky Blinders had waylaid a cargo on its way to the docks and, packed in one of the crates, were a few dresses. Lizzie had run around to the Garrison once she’d heard and managed to pick up the dress. It wasn’t as fine as some but it was cut long and lean and Lizzie was long and lean. She could never have afforded it from anyone but the Blinders and she had bought it in high hopes that one day she could wear it somewhere nice. What she had really bought it for was the hope that she might get a chance to wear it somewhere nice for Tommy but she had been recently forced to reconsider the wisdom of those kind of notions. Now, the dress would help her remember her pride. She had fallen on her face this week but she was getting over it and there was no way she was having Tommy think she didn’t know how to dress, not knowing how fussy he was about his own clothes and how well he kept himself. If it turned out she was over-dressed that was Tommy’s problem. Her mind made up, Lizzie started to get ready.


	6. Chapter 6

When eight o’clock eventually rolled around, Lizzie was, to all intents and purpose, sitting calmly at her table. She was too nervous to smoke as she waited in the lamp-lit room, mind hopping fruitlessly from one thing to another. She heard a car draw up in the street and waited for the thud of the car door and the measured footsteps to the door. There was a moment’s pause and in her mind’s eye Lizzie could see Tommy throwing aside his cigarette stub and touching his fob pocket the way he always did when he was just about to do something important.

Lizzie had not been able to satisfy her gnawing nerves about how and why this evening was important to Tommy, but she was sure that he had a purpose. He had told her to do this or that, be here or there at a certain time before. He had turned up and expected her time and attention regardless of anything else she might be doing, but as she worked for him, none of that was unusual. What was unusual was being asked. Underneath the polite request there had been an awareness that a polite request if refused would simply cause Tommy to turn up anyway, but still. It was an unknown that made Lizzie both nervous and sick with the longing that she had tried so hard to tear out this last week. 

Her new dress swirled about her legs as she moved towards the door and Lizzie’s heart pumped painfully hard in her chest. What if she had misunderstood and her dress made her ridiculous? She couldn’t bear anymore humiliation this week; her earlier bravado deserted her and she felt cold and lonely. She bit her lip, hard, and straightened her shoulders. Oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound.

She opened the door and nearly sagged with relief. Tommy was dressed up. He always dressed well, and even before the real money started coming in, was usually starched, laundered and be-suited. In the last year or so, his suits and overcoats had become richer and softer. Lizzie did not know a lot about quality clothing, not having had much experience of it herself, but she could recognise the difference between the clothing of the Shelby brothers and that of other men. She could recognise the small distinctions of dress that were Tommy’s own: he rarely wore a tie unlike Arthur and John; he liked his collar studs to be plain, but heavy; he preferred grey and black for business and navy for occasional days. Tonight, underneath his black overcoat he wore a navy suit and a shirt with a narrow, pale grey stripe. Tommy wore his wealth in his clothes, just like his brothers, but he was severe where they were flash. Tonight he looked as sharp as a razor and it made Lizzie blink. 

Tommy smiled at Lizzie as he moved into the room, closing the door behind him. The evening was still light but Tommy did not smell of sun or summer evenings or even like men did at the end of the day. He smelled of something expensive and dark and Lizzie noticed the difference immediately. Her head swam and she steadied herself against the door frame, unsure how to behave.

Tommy swept off his cap and looked at Lizzie, taking in her new dress and her waved hair and smiling into her eyes. He leant towards her and kissed her on the cheek. ‘You look nice Lizzie.’

Lizzie stopped herself from swaying towards him. ‘What’s going on Tommy?’

Tommy smiled at her again and despite her uncertainty and confusion Lizzie felt the smile warm her skin under her dress.

‘I said I’d make it up to you.’

‘I know that Tommy, what I don’t know is what that means.’

Tommy came to stand close to Lizzie. Lizzie had been close to Tommy countless times. He had screwed her in a number of different ways, regularly, over a period of years, give or take. She had worked for him for months, day in, day out, mostly just the two of them in the office, her doing what she was told, him only half-listening, often the two of them working in easy silence. That she understood, but this? This was different.

Tommy looked at her, that smile now dimmed to a curve of his mouth as he stood just this side of too close. ‘Did you ever think what would have happened without the war Lizzie?’

Lizzie shook her heard. ‘Too busy keeping the wolf from the door Tommy.’

‘I do. Wonder, I mean.’ Tommy walked away and stood by the window. Lizzie stared at him; she knew her face was screwed up with the effort of trying to make sense of where Tommy was going with this. Then Lizzie laughed with disbelief.

‘Don’t tell me you think we would have been sweethearts Tommy?’ Lizzie was aghast. If he thought he could come around here and make fun of her, then Shelby or not, job or not, she’d tell him what was what. She opened her mouth to do just that when he said ‘God no.’ Lizzie snapped her mouth shut as the implication of that remark hit both of them at the same time. She drew in a shaky breath feeling a prickle behind her eyes.

‘No, Lizzie, no. Not that. I didn’t mean…’ He was back in front of her again, one hand wrapped firmly around her arm as if he were about to prevent her turning away. That scent again and Lizzie squeezed her hands into fists to keep the tears at bay. ‘Lizzie.’ For a moment they stood, breathing the same air, standing on a knife edge. Tommy released her arm and took a half step back.

‘I didn’t mean it the way it came out.’ Lizzie could hear his frustration and she looked up. His eyes were fixed on hers and Lizzie’s took in a deep breath. She shrugged and looked away. She wasn’t sure she was ready to hear whatever was coming next.  
‘I’m not saying that me and you would be something different together. The war changed things for me, it changed things for you.’ He hesitated and Lizzie felt sick. She didn’t want to talk about it; she didn’t want him to say it. Polly, amongst others, knew her story, knew how she had become what she had become, it wasn’t a secret, but she never talked about it, not with anyone. It had been so long ago, she was so young and it all seemed like it had happened to someone else, except she could never clear it away. She had hoped, for a week or two, with John, but that was all a dream, nothing could change what she had been, what she would always be to people around here. But for Tommy to know made her want to curl up and die. She had suspected he knew, it was the kind of thing Tommy knew about people, but he had never indicated in any way that he knew or cared and that had been fine with her. She couldn’t bear to talk about it with him. She stood very still and closed her eyes, saying her prayer. She could feel him looking at her, the weight of his gaze hard and heavy.

The silence filled her small room. She felt raw, how did he do this to her? Without even trying, without meaning to, he waved aside all her defences as if they were not there and cut to the heart of the things she wanted to hide. She supposed he recognised her pain in the same way she recognised his; it was written all over both of them, after all. The thought made her feel a bit better; she kept his secrets and he kept hers. Then his voice came across the room, low and even, making an effort to smooth over the awkward moment. ‘Anyway, I thought let’s pretend. Let’s pretend the war never happened. Let’s pretend for one night that life is simple and we fancied a night out.’

Like normal people he meant. Not like she was a whore and he was a gang boss, like somewhere there was a Lizzie who was just as good as the next woman and a Tommy who had not been shaped by all the terrible things he had seen and endured. It wouldn’t make a bit of difference to Epsom and the reality that had exposed her self-delusion or the fact that Tommy was going to marry that woman, or to what happened next. It wouldn’t change anything important.

Except, it might make a difference between the two of them, even if it only meant she could end this awful week with a smile. Tommy had plans and schemes that she could never guess at and never wanted to. Lizzie now knew exactly where she fit, which was near the bottom and dispensable, that was certain, but she was also familiar and trustworthy and she was smart enough to know that he had given her that job because it suited him. Therefore, she must suit him. Apart from the women he was seeing, she had never heard he had gone knocking on other doors when he’d needed a woman. Tommy was rich, powerful and well-known in their neighbourhood. If there was business with other women, by which she meant other whores, plenty of people would make sure she knew about it. That meant something too. She would need to think about what. Right at this moment in time though, Tommy was making a big effort and Lizzie had never been at the receiving end of much effort at all from men, never mind a man like Tommy. She straightened her shoulders and smiled at him.

‘What kind of night out Tommy?’ Even Lizzie could hear the quaver of excitement in her voice. Tommy’s smile was back in full and it was rare enough at the best of times. Being the cause of it and the sole recipient made Lizzie’s belly twist and although she was aware that Tommy was pulling all the strings here, at least he was pulling them to keep her sweet. 

‘Dinner. Dancing? Seems a shame to waste that dress.’ Lizzie beamed at him and picked up her bag. ‘Then what are we waiting for Mr Shelby?’


	7. Chapter 7

As Tommy drove them towards town the light was fading and the air cooled. Lizzie’s excitement now had an edge of anxiety. She hoped her dress was fancy enough, funny how earlier on she had worried that she was too fancy. Tommy’s features had receded into the shadowed interior of the car and in the dim light the only bright spots were the end of the cigarette clamped between his lips and the gleam of his eyes under his cap. ‘You’ll do fine Lizzie.’ She glanced at him gratefully. Everyone knew Tommy loved horses and could make then do what he wanted; less widely known was the fact that he had the same effect on women. Lizzie knew men and she understood women, she had spent many a slow afternoon in the office considering all the reasons she was helpless for Tommy. He had money and power, that was obvious. Like him or loathe him, he was brave, daring, focused the kind of man you could never ignore no matter how much you wished you could. He was a bad man who did bad things and that and his looks made him as seductive as the devil himself. When the priest talked about the devil’s snares, Lizzie thought of Tommy.

Lizzie was jolted out of her thoughts by the car pulling up in front of The Grand Hotel. ‘Here Tommy, are we going in here? It looks so posh.’ Tommy got out of the car and pocketed the keys before helping her down. He curled her hand around his arm and looked up at the impressive building which certainly lived up to its name on the outside. The doormen who stood either side of the entrance suggested the inside would be as grand.

‘It is posh Lizzie. I thought you’d like to see it, take a look at all the toffs. I heard Charlie Chaplin stayed here last month.’ 

Lizzie’s excited chatter carried them into the foyer until she was struck dumb by the richness of the carpets and curtains, the air of luxury that she had never been close to before. Lizzie had thought Epsom was posh, this was more intense. She would never have dared to even look inside if she had not been accompanied by Tommy. Even now she was nervous, out of her depth.

Tommy squeezed her arm and said ‘Deep breath Lizzie.’ And obediently Lizzie took a deep breath in through her nose and let it out steadily through her mouth. Her eyes darted from the dazzling chandeliers to the thick rugs covering the floor, dark, expensive wood and gilt everywhere she looked. 

Tommy led her through the foyer to a set of double doors which were opened for them as they approached. The glass over the door said ‘The Crush Room.’ Inside the room was lit by chandelier and gas light, warm pools of light highlighting the dancefloor and the small stage upon which a band played. Surrounding the dancefloor were small round tables, dressed in linen, glass and silverware. There were additional tables under the tall windows which were reached via a set of shallow steps and contained within a decorative railing. It was towards these that a waiter led them and before long Lizzie and Tommy were seated overlooking the dancefloor. Lizzie was somewhat flustered at how much effort Tommy had apparently put into arranging this evening, but she was determined to enjoy it. So while Tommy ordered champagne, Lizzie tried to take in her surroundings, quash her nerves and look at everything at once. Around her were elegant men and women who had probably never seen the inside of a betting shop. But then again, she and Tommy were here so you never knew, did you? 

When Lizzie had daydreamed about Epsom she had imagined herself at Tommy’s side, passing off as a rich man’s girlfriend, being fancy in her new dress and enjoying the atmosphere of wealth and glamour. At one time life had been so hard she had only been able to think about it in small pieces: one man, a few shillings, a bare room, a basic meal. Over time, her life had steadied into familiar degradation and she could think a week or so ahead. Since working for Tommy and ‘no exceptions’, she had begun to think of her life in longer stretches. She had not been able to imagine such a stroke of luck as Tommy offering her the job as his secretary though she had hoped to change something by making the effort to learn to type. In the Peaky Blinders people like her with few choices and hard beginnings had made something of themselves, so why not her? Alright, she had a setback at Epsom and she wasn’t over the shock and upset, but she would get on with it like she got on with everything else. She had let herself get carried away with things, daydreaming about her and Tommy, but here they were, all dressed up and drinking champagne, so you never knew what was around the corner, did you?

Lizzie sipped her champagne and pulled a face at the fizz and the tart sweetness. Tommy was leaning back in his chair, his face dark and intent, watching her and she saw again that curve to his lip that was the ghost of a smile. ‘What do you think?’ Lizzie took another sip and wrinkled her nose again. ‘I’m not sure what all the fuss is about, but I’m happy to give it a go.’ She grinned at him.

The waiter returned and Tommy looked at her as he opened the menu. Lizzie gave a small shake of her head. She was beginning to enjoy herself. They had a lovely table, her dress was fine, and Tommy was being charming Tommy, but she wouldn’t know the first thing to order, so best if Tommy did that. She wasn’t sure she could eat too much anyway; she had such a feeling in her belly. 

Lizzie watched Tommy as he ordered. He skimmed down the list of meals and she could tell that he had already decided but was making a show of it for the waiter. Lizzie had known Tommy as a near-silent soldier, numb with pain, then a man who looked alive but was only going through the motions, followed by a shrewd, ruthless bastard on the make. From day to day when Lizzie looked at Tommy she saw these different men all mixed in together, with the addition of the man few people ever saw – the Tommy who could be kind and thoughtful, who brought out her feelings like no other man did, (although he didn’t want them and had never asked for them, but would make use of them if he needed to). She knew what he was and it didn’t make any difference to wanting to be close to him, needing to be around him. Watching him now, those familiar versions of Tommy disappeared and she had a curious moment of seeing him anew, as if he were a stranger.

He was discussing his order with the waiter and everything from his handsomely tailored suit and pristine collar, to the air of danger he had, told anyone watching that he was a man to be reckoned with, a man of wealth and substance. He was beautiful, those pale eyes saw everything, looked right into you, weighed and measured everything that you were in one swift glance, but he was beautiful in a way that was untouchable, that dared you to approach him. Unless you had seen it, you wouldn’t know that he smiled or joked. He was so self-contained it was difficult to imagine this man needing anything at all. He passed the menu back to the waiter and straightened his waistcoat, then flicked a speck from his trousered thigh with those strong pale fingers and Lizzie shivered, feeling a cool touch light from her nape to the bottom of her spine. She could feel her face heat from the knowledge that this powerful, unmissable man was with her, had chosen her company. More than that, had been inside her, many times, knew her. Lizzie stifled a small gasp and Tommy’s eyes whipped towards her instead of continuing to inspect the room. ‘What do you think Lizzie? Do you like it?’

Lizzie was so grateful for the distraction she began to chatter on about the room, the music, and the other couples. Her chatter carried them through the food, which she hardly touched, although it was delicious, to more champagne. The whole time Tommy listened to her and nodded and Lizzie delighted in his attention, trying to soak it up. She could see that her nonsense was letting him sit back and relax, his mouth was soft, his eyes were clear. He was as far away as ever, but closer than he had ever been and Lizzie knew he was the ruin of her, but she would not swap one moment of this evening with him for a string of the same with any other man. She thought of his wife-to-be and could not envy her. Loving Tommy took up so much of Lizzie that the thought of trying to deal with him loving her back, trying to hold on to that love, chase off all the other women who would want him, was beyond her. She was part of the Blinders, she was trusted and what she had she could hold onto; that thought filled her with a kind of happiness. That was enough, for now.

When she paused for breath, and the food was cleared away Tommy stood up and held out his hand. ‘Dance?’ Lizzie nodded, feeling shy. She had never danced with Tommy before. She didn’t know he could dance, but she supposed there was a lot that people didn’t know about Tommy. She followed him to the dancefloor and he placed his hand on her waist, her own hand held firmly against his warm palm and they began to move. Tommy had touched her before, obviously, but he had never led her like this, never had her on his arm. It was so different that Lizzie couldn’t look at Tommy. 

He had never hurt her physically. After the war there were a few times when he had been demanding, when she had felt that he was trying to find something in her he had lost in himself, but mostly he was remote, screwing her to unburden himself of desire he didn’t want, unapologetic and distant. Sometimes she thought he just wanted easy company and a distraction, those were the times he listened to her chatter and smoked and fucked her almost as an afterthought. Either way Tommy had no small talk, simply snaking his arm around her waist and leading her wherever, however, he wanted her. Sometimes he kissed her, not often. Like Tommy had said, tonight was pretend, was fantasy: tomorrow would be business as usual, so Lizzie enjoyed him leading her around the floor, sure and firm alongside her. She smiled to herself, her dress moved softly around her legs and she felt glamourous and important and it was wonderful. 

Tommy kept hold of her as the music ended and Lizzie moved a little closer to him so that her head was near to his. She inhaled that scent of his and enjoyed the feel of his strong thighs against her own. Tommy was slim but wiry strong and he had the grace of control, every move deliberate and purposeful. ‘What do you dream of Lizzie?’

Lizzie jerked her head back and stopped dancing. Tommy pulled her back into step and looked into her eyes and she couldn’t look away.

‘Dream of?’

‘Yes.’

Lizzie thought of husbands and children and a home of her own and the words came out of her mouth without her permission.

‘Oh Tommy, what’s the point of dreaming?’

‘I thought we were pretending, just for tonight, eh? Tell me Lizzie.’

‘Don’t Tommy.’

But he was still looking at her as they moved around together and she knew he wouldn’t let her say nothing. 

She leant her head back on his shoulder and in a voice that was so quiet it was almost a whisper said ‘I can’t have the normal things. No husband and kids for me Tommy. You made sure of that.’

He nodded and pulled her closer, their hips touching and parting as they moved. Lizzie could feel Tommy thinking that over and said nothing. What was there to say? It was the plain truth.

They danced four more dances, Lizzie relaxed in Tommy’s arms, the lights and the champagne and the surroundings making her feel warm, indolent, his strength there to lean on and enjoy. His hands were sure and his steps were deft, so Lizzie drank in that scent from the heat of his skin, letting Tommy lead her, whilst unfamiliar desire curled softly in her stomach. The music ended and Tommy released his hold on her whilst they clapped the band. Then Tommy cupped his arm around her elbow and led Lizzie back to their table. ‘Have you enjoyed the dancing Lizzie?’ Lizzie smiled. ‘Yes.’ Tommy nodded, ‘Are you ready to leave?’ he arched an eyebrow at her, the corner of his mouth curved as he waited for her answer.

‘Whatever you want Tommy.’ Lizzie had enjoyed the dinner and the dancing and knew she would enjoy replaying them all over again when she was alone. She didn’t know what Tommy had planned next but she could tell it was something from the way he was watching her. He handed Lizzie her handbag and signalled for his overcoat. He then led Lizzie through the foyer and towards the door. He stopped and pulled her aside into a curtained alcove. He turned Lizzie towards him. ‘I told you I’m getting married Lizzie?’

‘Yes Tommy, you did.’

‘Things will change.’

Did he think Lizzie hadn’t worked out that once there was a Mrs Shelby, Lizzie would be lucky to keep her place?

Lizzie tossed her head. ‘I’m not soft Tommy. You said no exceptions.’ She could hear the challenge in her voice. Tommy nodded.

He looked at her, his eyes dark. ‘I did. I also said never again Lizzie.’

Lizzie’s heart stopped. Dear God, did he mean that after all this he had set her up again? That she had fallen for it a second time, she looked around her wildly, half-expecting some business associate to be looking at her expectantly, waiting for her to take him upstairs. She slumped and put her hand to her head.

Tommy grabbed her wrist, pulling her hand away from her face. ‘No Lizzie not that, don’t.’ He was using that horse-soothing voice again. Lizzie felt sick.

Tommy pulled her close and took her weight, cradling her head against his shoulder. He was so close he could speak into her ear without anyone overhearing them. Lizzie wanted to lean on him, to sink into him, to let him lead her again because she didn’t know what was going on. ‘I meant I’m not asking you to make an exception Lizzie, not ever again. Not for me, not for anyone.’ Lizzie’s heart thumped in her chest so hard that she had to close her eyes to stop a wave of dizzy relief wash over her. She concentrated on breathing in and out, once, twice, the good wool of Tommy’s overcoat against her breath, that scent all around her. He lifted her head up and looked into her face. He smoothed the pad of his thumb under her eye, wiping away the tears that might be there if she had the energy to cry.

‘I meant I’m getting married, you’re not making exceptions; everything will be different. If I have anything to do with it, there’ll be no more exceptions Lizzie. Do you understand that?’

Lizzie nodded. 

‘Good. You’ve got a job with me Lizzie, whatever happens. Do you understand that?’

Lizzie nodded again. What was this all about? But Lizzie had learned long ago to go with the flow around Tommy. It was easier than trying to work out what he was up to.   
‘Then understand this too Lizzie. You helped me, when no-one else could, you helped.’

‘But you paid me Tommy.’

‘Not enough Lizzie.’ He kissed her on the forehead, like she had seen him kiss Ava. 

‘Polly has a house. Ava has a house. You should have a house of your own; one that no-one can take away from you.’

‘Tommy…’ Lizzie started to say something, she didn’t know what.

‘I’ll help you find one Lizzie. I’ll help.’ He looked into her eyes and she nodded. There was no stopping Tommy once he had made his mind up.

‘There’s one more thing, Lizzie. You’re not for sale anymore, we agree on that?’

‘Yes, Tommy.’ 

‘So if you want me to take you home in the car tonight, I will Lizzie. You don’t owe me anything.’

Lizzie’s head jerked up and he stepped away, forcing her back on to her own two feet, his stare open and clear, ‘but if you wanted to, I’ve got a room.’ 

He didn’t say because I heard you when you said ‘no exceptions was no hardship’ Lizzie, but she heard it anyway. She looked at him and thought about all the times she had been there for him and all the times he’d trampled on her and the times she had wanted his attention and not got his or anyone else’s, and here she was, his attention being offered on a plate. She knew she ought to have more backbone but she had put him first enough times this week, maybe it was her turn to take. 

‘Have you ever stayed anywhere like this Tommy?’ 

He shook his head, his eyes bright and bottomless in the lamplight. ‘No, have you?’

She slapped her hand against his arm. ‘Of course not, are you daft? Where would I get the money for this?’

He smiled at her and offered his arm again, like the gents did for the ladies, ‘Well, here’s your chance Lizzie, let’s see how posh we can be, eh?’ 

Lizzie made a comical face and said, ‘Let’s see’ and then she let him lead her towards the stairs.


	8. Chapter 8

When they reached their room Lizzie’s head was already in a spin from the elaborate carving of the ceiling which was carried through on the doors, the door handles and the staircase. Everything that could be decorated or carved and painted had been and there was pattern and colour everywhere. Tommy unlocked the door into the room and threw his overcoat and cap over a chair just inside the door. Lizzie gasped at the interior. There was a large fireplace and a high marble mantel with a vase of delicate white flowers, nothing gaudy or yellow. Underfoot was a patterned carpet which ran close to the edge of the room. Lizzie couldn’t imagine the cost of such a thing. She walked around touching the fabric and tables, taking it all in. ‘Goodness Tommy, this must cost a fortune.’ She stopped in front of the bed and gaped. The bed had hangings, tied back in a gold brocade, folds and folds of them. These were matched by a bed cover which reached to the floor on both sides. Lizzie didn’t think she had seen so much fabric in one place. ‘Tommy, look at this bed! Have you ever seen anything like it?’ she turned to him where he was watching her with a smile.

‘No Lizzie can’t say I have. Wouldn’t last five minutes that, down by ours. Someone would have it off.’

‘And that someone would probably be you, Tommy.’ 

He laughed at that, taking his cigarette from his mouth and pointing with it at her, ‘And you’d probably be right Lizzie. Maybe I’ll roll it up under my coat when we leave.’  
Lizzie turned on him, ‘Tommy Shelby, don’t you dare. I wouldn’t give these people the room to talk about me.’

‘I’m not sure I care what they think Lizzie, eh?’ He was leaning against the mantel, one elbow propped up. ‘But I like seeing what they have and how they do things.’

‘Why’s that Tommy?’ Lizzie leaned against the bed, testing its bounce while he watched her. ‘Gives me ideas about things I might want, how I might want to do things.’ His voice was clear in the room, there was nothing of the street noise, or of the other people in the hotel to bother them. The only sound came from a mahogany clock with a gold and glass face, curved and large on the mantel, its action loud and steady in the room. 

They stayed like that for a moment, looking around them at the luxurious room. Once Tommy had smoked his cigarette, he stubbed out the end in the cut-glass ashtray on a side table and looked at her. He waited until she looked into his eyes and then slid them down, over her mouth, across her breasts and down her long legs until they reached her shoes, then he looked back up, until their eyes met again. Lizzie felt heat creep across the back of her neck.

‘Come here.’ Lizzie stood up from the bed and paused, she had heard that tone of voice before. She wondered if she would ever hear it again after tonight. She doubted it. Tommy had his own rules about what was right and wrong, and as far as Lizzie could see, carrying on when he was married was something he probably had a rule about. But he didn’t belong to another woman yet, not tonight he didn’t. Tonight he was offering himself to her. Lizzie walked towards him. 

‘You’re wearing too many clothes Lizzie.’

Tommy’s voice was soft, quiet, but Lizzie felt it in her gut. He gestured at her dress and Lizzie reached for the row of buttons which fastened underneath her arm and down the side of her waist, but rather than turning away and going to the bed, Tommy reached for her wrist, his hand sliding around it to still it as it touched the buttons. Tommy trailed his fingers from her wrist to squeeze her hand before letting it go. He then stroked his fingertips along her collarbone, down over her shoulder, watching her all the time, until he dropped his eyes to undo the buttons, each one widening the sliver of opening to gradually reveal Lizzie’s slip. Lizzie held her breath. Her clothes had been ripped off her, shoved aside, dragged this way and that, but she couldn’t remember anyone undressing her like this, carefully and slowly. 

Tommy worked intently and with every assured touch, every press of his hands against her shoulders, Lizzie’s heartbeat raced, taking blood around her body, until she was aware of her pulse under her skin, her breaths in and out of her lungs and the sighs of stifled pleasure from her mouth. She relished every touch, every whisper of her clothing being stripped away and the press of her skin under Tommy’s hand. When her dress had been placed carefully over the chair and she was standing in her slip, Tommy sat on the edge of the bed and beckoned her over. Lizzie bit her lip and took the few steps on wobbly legs. She had slept with many men, she had slept with Tommy many times but nothing had ever felt like this. Like she was new, and special. 

When she reached the bed Tommy gestured for her foot. He cradled her ankle with one hand and used the other to slip the strap from the button and then the shoe from her foot. Then he braced her stocking foot against the soft wool covering his hard thigh and traced his fingers up the back of her calf, around the back of her knee and under her slip. When he reached the elastic of her garter he slid one finger inside, between the skin of her thigh and the edge of her stocking and pulled it loose. Then he ran both of his hands up from her knee until they reached the stocking and peeled it down, off her leg. Lizzie could feel heat flush across her throat at the way Tommy did this, the sureness of his touch making her skin heat under his fingers. She swallowed and Tommy looked up at her, assessing her. Whatever he saw must have pleased him because his pale eyes darkened, making excitement and lust flare through Lizzie. He repeated the same process with the other leg, deliberately dragging out his touch, taking longer to run his hands around her knee and along her thigh, until Lizzie’s leg trembled. 

Once both stockings had fluttered to the floor, Tommy pulled her closer, between his thighs. His hands held her firmly by the back of her knees and he pulled her closer still until his head was resting against the soft curve of her belly and his hands were soothing up the back of her thighs. Lizzie carded her fingers through his hair, pulling the air into her chest with some effort. She felt hot and dizzy and excited, something she had only felt fleetingly in her encounters with men, including Tommy. But tonight, he was different showing her what could have been, perhaps. Rather than making her sad that thought made warmth and tenderness flow through her: he was showing her the best of himself, something mostly hidden, something rare. 

After a moment, when her breath was steady again, Tommy pulled her down onto his lap. His hands were on her bottom, caressing over the silky slip, pressing her nearer until she could feel the hardness of him against the cradle of her pelvis. He kissed her open mouth, his tongue delving deep, making her lips tender. Then he rocked against her without urgency until her own hips were tilting back and forth, sending frissons of pleasure and spikes of heat through her core. Tommy bit gently at her neck and Lizzie let her head drop back to give him room, as he bit and kissed her along the tendons of her throat until Lizzie was making soft sounds and scratching her fingers against the shaved skin at the back of his head. Lizzie could hear the tick of the clock in the room but there was no other sound. Then Tommy lifted his hand from her bottom and stroked along her neck until the finger slid the strap of her slip off her shoulder. Then the other strap, until the slip pooled around her waist, her arms trapped with the lightest of restraints by the slim ribbon.

Tommy dipped his head and took one nipple into his mouth and Lizzie’s breaths turned to pants around the tick-tock and the haze of pleasure which made her writhe against Tommy and seek more of that heat and suction. She could hear herself mumbling nonsense and she clasped his head close, keeping his mouth against her breast, wanting the feeling to go on, wrapped up in Tommy and quiet, where she didn’t have to have one eye on the door and the other on the clock, where it wasn’t about him getting in and getting done or about her not feeling alone for a minute, but about something else, pleasure and comfort and taking your time because you could.

Tommy turned his head to the other breast and Lizzie wanted to hold this memory, this feeling tight in her mind so she could go back to it, find it again, and remember it. Then Tommy slipped his hand into her drawers and into her heat and she wanted to sob, but instead pressed her hips back and forth, feeling his fingers curl against her and make waves of delight shiver along her spine, meeting the throb from her breasts and filling her with need and want and she opened her eyes and watched him, eyes closed, lashes dark against his pale skin, concentrating on pleasing her and Lizzie could feel herself tightening and arching and she wanted it to go on and on but she needed him, needed to feel him as close as possible, inside and around her until he couldn’t think of anything else, until she couldn’t think of anything else and there was no distance between them. 

‘Tommy, Tommy…’ and he lifted his head and opened her eyes and she groaned at the flush on his cheeks and the softness of his lips and the arousal in his eyes, only the thinnest circle of pale blue visible around the black pupil and she had never felt so much lust, so much want in her life. He moved his hand from between her thighs and grabbed her around the hips until he toppled her over on to the bed beside him. She lay there, legs sprawled and her slip around her waist and watched him as he watched her. He looked stern and tough but this time there was no remoteness. His hair was sticking up and his skin looked hot as he stripped his waistcoat and dropped it on the floor before tugging at the studs on his collar and cuffs, until, in a few efficient moves he was shirtless and unbuckling his belt. Lizzie tilted up on to her elbows to watch him. She had rarely seen him naked. Somehow, before, he seemed to fuck her without removing many of his clothes. She had seen different parts of him naked and she could remember some nights in her bed when he was undressed but she had never had the opportunity to look at him, to look at him like he was there for her enjoyment. Her throat felt tight and she swallowed. Tonight she would look as much as she wanted to.

He bent over to untie his boots and she watched the play of wiry muscle over his back and shoulders under white skin that was smooth between the scars. When he stood up she could see the tattoo on his chest and the taut bands of his abdomen. He was so slim and yet he was, at the same time, intensely masculine. Lizzie had seen brawnier men and God knows there were men like Arthur who seethed with aggression and violence, but somehow Tommy seemed more a man than any other. Somehow, his presence and power were greater than his build, his beauty, his name. Lizzie didn’t know how to explain it to herself, but she knew she felt it in every part of her. She always wanted to turn towards Tommy, never away, no matter how silent, how unreachable, how dark he seemed; Lizzie wanted to be around him. She had acknowledged this much to herself when he had separated her from John, when he had warmed her off her work, when he had used her at Epsom. She wished it wasn’t that way, but it was and she didn’t blame herself anymore. No-one could turn away from Tommy when he wanted their attention, or at least no-one she knew.

He pushed the trousers and his linings off his hips and Lizzie could see the etched vee of his lower abdomen and it made her scrabble up on to her knees in anticipation. Tommy smiled at her then and Lizzie could feel her answering smile stretch across her face. He kicked his trousers away and stood there for a moment, their eyes locked on each other. Lizzie felt her gut clench and her legs shake and her breasts ache, a throb between her thighs and Tommy cool and pale and slim except where he was dark and thick and hot and then he moved towards her, lifting the slip up, over her head, pushing down her drawers, uncovering her own dark heat to his eyes, until she was naked and he was pressing against her, skin satin smooth against skin and the two of them twisting onto the bed in a tangle of limbs. 

Lizzie could feel the hard length of his erection catching against her mound and Tommy was lowering his head to nip at her neck and Lizzie couldn’t stand it anymore. She grabbed his hair and said ‘Now Tommy, now.’

Tommy kissed her again, tongue hard in her mouth making her gasp and twist her arms around his shoulders. Lizzie’s hand grabbed onto the solid curve of his bicep as she pressed her hips up and forward until he wrapped her legs around his waist and drove into her, hot and hard and heavy, the weight of his hips sinking into hers so she could feel him far inside, both of them gasping against the feeling. Then Tommy hitched himself up onto his palms, hands flat into the covers either side of her head and looked down, along their bodies to the place they were joined, where he could see his dick disappearing into her. Lizzie closed her eyes, seeing the picture etched there, hot and exciting and dirty. ‘God, God, God’ was all she could say as he started to move his hips, steady, deep. Lizzie felt fire flaming through her, under her skin, her nerves twisting tighter and tighter, her hips rising up to meet Tommy’s thrusts until the muscles under her hands became rigid and he stopped holding back. He took the weight from his hands and shifted it to his knees, pulling her down the bed, his hands running over her breasts, the two of them still connected together, until he pulled her legs onto his shoulders and leant back into her, hips driving into her as deep as he could go, knocking against that place inside her that made her want to sob and twist and he reached between them and pressed his thumb hard against her where they joined and she was shaking and gripping around him, a moan strangled in her throat, and he stuttered his hips for a beat or two more until he was cursing and coming hot into Lizzie and she thought she might just die from the pleasure of it.

Tommy slipped her legs down and Lizzie curled them around him as he lat his head against her still thundering heartbeat and they both listened to the noise of their breathing rage and settle into the calm of the room.

‘Fuck Lizzie.’

Lizzie laughed at that. She had never heard anything so heartfelt out of him, but it felt like a joke shared between them and she laughed again. Then Tommy laughed too, quiet and relaxed and amused, a sound so rare that Lizzie thought maybe he had made it up to her after all. She stroked his hair and thought about everything that had happened in the last week. She didn’t know she had so many feelings in her and she had never guessed she could feel so many different things all at once. Maybe that’s what life might have felt like, if there’d been no war to ruin them all. But as her mum used to say, ’ifs and ands and pots and pans:’ there was a war and Tommy was damaged, and she was damaged and everything was not the way it was supposed to be, but she was living and breathing and had things to work for and look forward to, so she was a damn sight better off than she could have been. 

Tommy lifted himself off her and reached for his cigarettes, twisting over the side of the bed to reach his trousers. As his torso curved, his muscles stretched under his skin, and Lizzie drank in his beauty without anything to stop her. They had all night and Lizzie might have had a few ideas of her own she wanted to try whilst she had his attention, but for now she was happy to lean against him and share a cigarette. 

Tommy settled back against the pillows and put his hand behind his head, the other holding his cigarette. Lizzie turned on to her belly, head leaning against one hand. She smoothed the other hand across his chest. Tommy looked at her, that small smile at the edge of his mouth again. Lizzie smiled back at him.

‘So tell me about this house of mine then Tommy.’ 

And he did.

The End


End file.
